The Medical Miracle
by CNJ
Summary: Goes back 60 years to Beverly Crusher's incredible special birth with some special surprises. We also find out some interesting, special things about the Howard family along the way.


Hii

Hii. Thanks to those who read and reviewed my first _ST_:_TNG_ - Beverly story, _Winter_'_s_ _Proposal_; it was great seeing the reviews. I do wish I had more time to write much more on more characters.

This one goes way, way back about sixty years to the wonderful Beverly Crusher's birth…in my universe; she sure had a crazy birth.

And something else…being born to unmarried parents can be special, something not many people realize, which is part of what makes Beverly even more special.

Just also a side note that I've added a few additional characters…a half-sister of Beverly's and a stepdad, just so people don't get confused and insist in the reviews, _But Beverly was an only child_, etc, etc.

Anyway…a miracle sure happened in Copernicious City on the moon in the 24th century.

The usual disclaimer that most of the characters don't belong to me, much as I wish Beverly did, nor do some of the locations or names; they all belong to Paramount and company…

**The Medical Miracle**

_By_: CNJ

_PG-13_

**Beverly****:**

I make myself a cup of lemon tea before going to bed that evening. Once I slide into bed, I pick up another of my grandmother's journals to read.

_Birth of my first granddaughter_, the faded writing on the cover catches my eyes and I slowly open it, my heart hammering and begin to read…

* * *

**Felisa****:**

"If I know you, I can tell you're waiting for the last three months of this pregnancy to be over with," I tell my daughter, Isabel, who is leaning back on the footstool with her eyes closed.

Isabel nods and accepts the cup of lemon tea I hand her. She sips and runs one hand thru her wavy, shoulder-length light brown hair. "After the false alarm I had the other day, I'm hoping there are no more scares like that one."

"Me too," I sit beside her. I'm also grateful that as a doctor, I was able to stop the early contractions and prevent a miscarriage. The baby is not due until November and right now, it is only late August. "Speaking of…David did sign the release papers, didn't he?"

Isabel nods again. David Bailey is, or was the biological father of this baby, but since he says he is not ready for fatherhood and Isabel still wants this baby, Isabel and I decided it would be a good idea of David legally relinquished his rights and obligations to avoid any later entanglements.

I'm glad David did sign. I've seen enough cases where the father at first is completely uninvolved, then years later, shows up and decides he wants to be a dad to the kids. It causes little but disruption and confusion for the family…not something I'd like for my upcoming grandchild.

David and Isabel didn't even have a tight relationship, just a half-drunken one-night stand anyway. I am not even sure how much either of them remember of it or if they even remember the sex part.

I've given Isabel several scans and I suspect the child is a girl, but Isabel says she wants to be surprised and doesn't want to know the gender of the baby until it is born.

I actually live on Arvada III while Isabel lives on Luna, the moon orbiting Earth, but since the scare the other day, I've been staying with her for a few weeks.

Isabel is an architect specializing in lunar gravity control design while I'm a doctor and a healer. I hope I can be of aid when my first grandchild comes into this universe…

* * *

**Beverly****:**

I turn on my side again and take another sip of tea as I pause in my reading.

While I pause, I'd better take a bit of time to clarify a few things…for those of you from the twentieth to about the twenty-second century Earth who might be confused about who my father really was…my biological father was David Bailey while the Paul you may have read about in records is actually my stepfather, Paul Walker who married my mother a little later. My younger half-sister, Enid Howard, came from that union. I had never seen my biological father.

And also, about last names…we on many of our worlds alternate generations whenever any of us Howards/Crushers/Walker marry on taking a spouses name, so Paul Walker adopted Mom and Nana's name of Howard and so passed on that name to Enid and me.

I was the generation who took my spouse's name, so that's why I became Beverly Crusher when I married Jack.

I hope this is not too confusing for those of you reading this who are from the twenty-first or so century Earth since I understand it was an Earth custom for the wife to adopt the husband's last name.

I lean back again and resume reading Nana's journal…

* * *

**Isabel****:**

It's late that night when I get up to pee. It's awkward sitting on the commode because my abdomen is just beginning to swell.

I'm cleaning myself when I feel the baby moving inside of me. It's too early, I think. I stroke my abdomen and leave the bathroom. The baby kicks this time and I gasp.

"Honey, it's too early; you can't be ready to move," I tell my unborn child. I sit on the bench and sing to her a little. I still feel it squirming inside of me.

Sighing, I sit back and lean against the wall. I hear footsteps and it is my mum heading toward the bathroom.

"All right, dear?" Felisa stops and reaches out and strokes my hair.

"It's moving already…" I tell her. "I'm going to spend the next three months trying to keep my kid from twisting a leg or spraining an arm…she'll be accident prone." I stand up and pace, still feeling my baby twitch and squirm inside of me. "What if she's a clutz like me?" I wail.

My mum laughs a little and I have to roll my eyes at her. "We'd be carrying on a nice Howard tradition then," she tells me. "At least we know she'll be intelligent since we have a long history of being clumsy and intelligent."

"Sure…" I mutter. "Just like me falling into bed with David half-drunk and getting pregnant the first time."

"A happy accident," Mum tells me. "Admit it, you do want this baby, am I right?"

I nod. I've always wanted children since I was young. I just never imagined it would be so sudden and all from a rather abrupt one-night stand. David had been surprised too and I guess it explains why he bailed, muttering something about "not being ready" for a puking, squalling, peeing little thing yet. I am ready, so I will raise my child myself.

I can tell Mum is really looking forward to being a first-time grandmother. She was always telling me interesting, wonderful stories about her own Nana, Anna Howard Spokeswin. I very vaguely remember her; she spoke with a thick Scottish brogue, thicker than the rest of us and would lift my older sister, Syrie and me high into the air so we could touch the multicolored lamp she had on her ceiling.

We're getting ready to head back to bed when I feel something more profound, like a cramplike pulling.

"Oh…God!" I gasp. Not another alarm! I think desperately.

"What's…?" Mum turns and puts an arm around me.

"Oh, God, no…." I feel the pulling again, then a contraction. "I think it's another…"

"Contraction?" Mum whispers. Her face dawns with the realization and I'm alarmed to see a touch of fear in her face. "We'd better get you to the birthing center immediately."

* * *

**Felisa****:**

I rush my daughter to the birthing center in downtown Copernicious in what feels like seconds. Her contractions are coming faster unfortunately and I fear she's heading for a miscarriage. I cling to the hope that her baby has been moving and is alive and so has a fighting chance.

Isabel is frightened and weeping by the time we reach the center. Dr. Marla Wein has come quickly and she checks my daughter over with my assistance.

Indeed, Isabel is fully dilated. Also as a surprise, the child is in what they used to call breech position, which means the baby will be coming out feet first. There is no time to change her position and even if we did have time, it would be too risky.

This time they cannot stop the contractions at all. The baby is coming, ready or not, three months early. There's now no other option but for Isabel to push. Dr. Wein speaks soothing words to both of us as she helps my daughter into the birthing tub and into the warm water where babies come out. By this time, both Isabel and I are crying.

"Dr. Howard…" Marla speaks softly. "No matter what the outcome, we all are going to get through this…whatever happens."

I nod, tears dripping into the dark birth water. Dr. Wein is overseeing the actual physical birth while I am providing the coaching for Isabel.

* * *

Isabel's labor is surprisingly quick, only a few hours and my granddaughter does come out feet first. I can't help gasping and my heart is beating five hundred kilometers a second as I watch the baby's feet emerge, then the rest of her very, very tiny body.

"Is she alive?" Isabel asks fearfully. She leans back onto the pillow and my arm, breathless and sweaty, her light brown hair sticking to her neck and shoulders.

"Yes…" Dr. Wein tells us. "But she'll need oxygen and an incubator…" she looks at us, her own dark eyes bright with unshed tears.

I swallow, wipe away a fresh batch of tears, then whisper, "What are her chances of making it?" I know Dr Wein will be honest with me especially as a colleague and fellow healer.

"Iffy…" Dr. Wein speaks softly. "But with the two of us and with Isabel, all three of us can raise this child's chances."

Isabel slowly reaches into the water and Dr. Wein dims the lights. All three of us catch a first glimpse of our new girl. She is only about 6 and a half centimeters long and is a mottled deep purple all over. A shock of silvery blond hair sprouts out of the top of her head. I use my tricorder to weigh her and find that she weighs not even one kilogram, but about 91 grams only. Her lungs, stomach and spine are also still partially developed.

"I think she's going to need not only an incubator, but an organ stimulator," I tell Dr. Wein.

"Maybe she'll need a rabbi…" Isabel mutters, referring to the religious leaders of the ancient faith of Judaism our Scottish ancestors practiced way back thousands of years ago, up until around the fourteenth or so century.

"I think we quit using rabbis back in the Renaissance back in Scotland on Earth," I remind my daughter. "I doubt any rabbi religious magic can help."

"Just in case…" Isabel whimpers. I don't try to tell her that even if stars forbid, this child doesn't make it, any rabbi would ease our pain.

* * *

"Hang in there," I tell my purple, tiny granddaughter from aside the stimulator. To my surprise, she does move a lot and at one point, I even see tears on her face. I watch the side, which acts as a time controller to pace the growth of her organs and am relieved to see that despite stops and goes, her lungs and other organs are developing steadily.

The next two weeks pass in a blur. Several times, it is touch and go and we almost lose her. Isabel is afraid to name her, fearful that she might not make it. Sometimes, she is even afraid to look at her daughter, perhaps fearful of becoming too attached, then losing her.

* * *

"I don't know how much longer I can take this!" Isabel bursts into tears at one point when we are eating. She drops her calzone back onto the plate and gets up and paces. "Even if she does pull though, what if she had lifelong problems?"

"We'll manage them together then…" I put my arms around her and hold her close. "And I've helped loads of preemies pull through and the vast majority of them grow up into healthy, normal kids and adults. We'll all pull through…we're going to get though this…" I soothe her, not sure if it is making her feel better. But again, we Howards are adept at not necessarily making it "all better," but at giving one another the strength to pull through tough times.

It is a minute before we realize that we are being paged. Both of us grab the remains of our lunch and toss it into the nearest recycling bin and rush down the hall toward our baby.

Dr. Wein has a cautious smile on her face. "I think her organs are complete enough to transfer her to the incubator."

My granddaughter has indeed grown and seems to be slowly breathing much better than she did at birth. She's still purple, but looks stronger. I assist in the connections so Dr. Wein can transfer her to the incubator. Our baby squirms and thrashes a bit, but Isabel soothes her and even sings to her a little and she seems to hear her mother because she turns to the sound and stops squirming so much.

"I think I will name her Beverly," Isabel tells us softly once her baby is in the incubator. "After my university roommate, who was very courageous."

"Good one," I say as we peer down at Beverly, who seems to be drifting off to sleep. Her shock of blond hair now covers her head and sticks straight out in odd places in a funny way that makes all of us smile. Her silvery-blue eyes are also now open and peer around, frightened. "The fact that she's squirming and can cry is a good sign that her brain is well developed."

"She'll be a smart one," Isabel says.

* * *

Beverly continues to grow over the next few weeks. It is mid-September when Dr. Wein finally tells us that it is now safe to take little Beverly out of the incubator.

She's crying again as Isabel holds her. We let her cry for a while, both of us relishing the high, keening sound and occasional breath intake, which no longer needs assistance. We both sing to her for a while, but it is difficult to calm her down. I imagine her own birth has been even rockier for her than for us. It takes an hour, but Beverly finally slows her crying until it's just silent tears.

Beverly is no longer that purple, now her coloring has faded into a lavender-magenta. Her tiny face finally relaxes and her eyes, still a light silvery-blue, peer around. She doesn't seem as frightened as before and as Isabel sings more to her and strokes her, Beverly seems to relax a little more.

"Hello, darling…it's Nana, your grandmother…" I whisper to my lovely granddaughter. As I peer into her intense large eyes, I wonder if she will have her mother's dark blue eyes or my green ones. I am struck by how serious her eyes appear, how grave her face seems for such a young infant.

* * *

It is a month after her birth that we can finally take our granddaughter home. Dr. Wein and I look her over and find that little Beverly is now healthy and developing normally. She is still small, but is now in the safe range.

Isabel and I are laughing as we carry Beverly out of the birthing center and to the shuttle home. Beverly alternates between crying softly and peering around the outside world in wonderment. The weather is colder now; even Luna has its seasons. And now is the start of a new season in all our lives.

* * *

**Beverly****:**

I wipe tears from my face as I read about my unusual, weird, crazy birth. I've heard about it from Nana, but actually reading about it makes my heart pound and brings me to tears. I slowly put the journal down and turn off the lamp and lie there thinking for a long time.

My mother and stepfather, Paul died when I was still little, right after Enid was born, so we went to live with Nana and finished growing up with her.

I think over my strange childhood…most of it on Arvada III, then the moon disaster that destroyed it and forced all of us to move onto other planets. Nana, Enid, and I settled on Caldos IV, where Nana lived until she died a year ago.

Enid is not in Starfleet, but she's a lawyer for Flightskies III and has a fourteen-year-old daughter, Xeola.

When we were girls, we often clashed over Nana's attention. I was the shy, quiet, timid one while Enid was bolder and more outgoing.

I'd always felt odd, even at school. I'd had some friends, but often was teased by other kids and considered awkward and weird, which affected my self-esteem for years. Especially my bright red hair made me the target of cruel teasing as a kid; I was often called _carrots_ and _tomatopastehead_. My awkward acne-marked teen years didn't help matters either.

I never did understand why I was affected by teasing much more than most other kids and why I was so shy and bookish and why I cried so easily, much more so than my younger sister. I think neither Nana nor Enid understood why, but Nana, dear Nana accepted me as I was and would hold me whenever I came home crying from the ridicule.

I think it was Nana's encouraging my interest in the human body and my direction in heading for doctorhood that kept my sanity during those years.

Maybe people would also say that Nana wanted someone to follow in her footsteps, but whatever the reason, I am grateful to Nana for her encouragement and guidance that led me to where I am today, sixty years later.

_Storyline Copyright_ 2008 _By_ **CNJ**


End file.
